Great Unexpectations
by CasualDreamer45
Summary: Emily is a teacher in a local primary school. Cook and Naomi are the best of friends, sharing a small apartment without a care in the world. However, an unexpected visitor one night threatens to turn their whole world upside down. Not the best summary, but... Could be a while before the next update.


**Author's Note:**

**Ok, so this idea just came to me, and I had to jot it down. I'm not sure how you guys will feel about it, but hopefully it's a decent enough plot. It is a Naomily story, although I like the idea of Cook and Naomi being good friends, so there'll be the friendship between them as well.**

**Also, because it's 'Skins', there will be a lot of Skins-esque language. Yes, that means potty mouths, folks. Potty mouths, everywhere... If you're offended by bad language, it's probably best not to read on.**

**Anyway...**

* * *

**Chapter 1:**

I'm woken by the sound of the buzzer going off.

"Fuck's sake..." I open my eyes for a second, closing them again as I try to drift off again, but with no such luck, as the buzzer sounds again. I growl, pulling the top pillow out from under me, and sandwiching my head between it and the bottom one, ears covered.

The buzzer goes off again. I lift my phone from the bedside table to check the time. 12.30am. Who the fuck calls round to people's houses at 12.30am.

"Jesus fucking Christ..." I mumble as the buzzing persists. "Cook! Cook, answer the fucking door, you prick!" I know he's up. He's probably sitting in the living room with a spliff hanging out of his mouth watching Babestation or some shit like that.

There's no answer though, the buzzing getting more frequent.

"Cook!" Nothing. "Oh, fuck it." I crawl out of bed, pulling on some underwear and throwing a tank top over my head. Yeah, I sleep naked. Problem?

I pull some socks on before grabbing one of Cook's zip-up hoodies and wrapping it around myself as I make my way to the door. As expected, Cook is sprawled over the sofa, trying to create 'O' shapes with the smoke that pours from his mouth. He stops to giggle at something on the television, high as a kite.

"Fuckin' yes, mate! You tell 'im... That baby's yours and you know it! She's a fuckin' slag for sleepin' with that prick, anyway. Fuckin' tosser!"

Why the fuck is he watching Jeremy Kyle at this hour? He must have recorded it... Weirdo.

"Cook!" He turns around at the sound of his name being called. "The door?" I look at him expectantly.

"Yeah, yeah," he waves me off. "In a minute, blondie; they're bringing out the DNA test now, aren't they?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I sigh, rolling my eyes as I make my way to the door. When I open it, there's a kid of about ten standing outside with a little rucksack on his back, staring up at me.

I take a quick glance outside the apartment to see if anyone is with him, but he seems to be alone.

"Can I help you?" He holds out an envelope addressed to 'James'. "Cook!" There's no answer. "Cook, will you come here for a minute? I think it's for you!"

"Alright, alright! Calm your tits, blondie..." As he gets closer to the door his voice gets louder. "I were right, weren't I? I knew he was the fuckin' dad. That other prat doesn't have it in him to get anyone pregnant." He stops in his tracks as he takes in our visitor at the door. "Alright, mate? Where's your mum? You lost?" The child just stares at Cook, his eyes shy.

Cook looks up at me, probably searching for some kind of explanation. Since I can't give him one, I shrug my shoulders. He starts laughing then.

"Yeah, right. A fuckin' kid? What am I going to do with a kid, Naomikins? 'Who's the fuckin' daddy', eh?" He laughs. "That's funny. That's fuckin' funny, that is..."

"He handed me this." I pass Cook the envelope. He's still smiling as he opens it.

"Oh, a letter and all! Very believable! Creative... Is this your way of getting me back for the stunt I pulled with the tin opener the other night? Right... What have you got to say then?" He pulls the letter from the envelope and starts reading, smile slowly dissolving from his face. He looks up at the child then, his face pale.

"Cook?" He doesn't answer. He just continues to stare at the boy in front of him. "Cook, what's wrong?" I put my hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his daze and prompting him to look at me.

"He's mine." He pauses for a second, looking down at the child, then back to me. "The kid's mine."

Well, shit...

* * *

Between the two of us, we manage to get the child to bed, deciding my bed would be the healthiest option. God knows what's on Cook's sheets... There were a few bits and pieces in his rucksack; pyjamas, underwear etc., so that helped out a lot.

Once he's settled, Cook and I take a seat on the couch. There's silence for a while, before Cook speaks up.

"What am I going to do? _She_ can't handle the stress of a fuckin' kid at the minute? Well, what about me? I'm not exactly 'Dad of the Year' material, am I?"

I finish reading the letter. The child's name is Benjamin, or 'Ben'. He's definitely Cook's because the mother apparently hadn't slept with anyone else around the date of conception. He does look like him, actually... Anyway, speaking of the mother, she claims to be going through 'a rough time' at the minute, and can't handle the stress of looking after a child right now. Probably a druggie or something... She's not from Bristol, but managed to track Cook down through various punters in local bars. Figures...

"Well... I don't know really... Don't actually have a kid myself, so..."

"Yeah, well, I didn't think I had one either, did I? Fuck..."

"Hey, a bit of drama never did anyone any harm, did it? Besides... You're always complaining that your life is boring..."

"Yeah, but, a kid? I know nothing about kids."

"Well, neither do I." There's silence again.

"You'll help me, won't you?"

"What?"

"With the kid; you'll help me."

"Umm... I guess... I mean, we _do_ live together..."

"Right. We need a plan."

"A _'plan'_?"

"Well, yeah... Not a 'plan' as such, but like... A diagram. With all the stuff we need to do and shit... And all the things we'll need."

"Okay..." He grabs the large writing pad and a sharpie, ripping a page out as he tacks it to the wall.

"Alright... So, 'Ben'!" He writes the word 'Ben' in bold in the centre of the page before circling it. "Right... So, clothes..." He draws a line from the circle and writes 'clothes'. "Uh... DVDs?"

"Cook... You might want to sort out your own collection and hide some of the more... 'inappropriate' ones before you start shopping in the kids' section..."

"Shit, yeah! You're right! Alright, we need to totally child-proof this house..."

* * *

As time wears on, the diagram expands, Cook writing all his ideas down, while I put in minimal effort. Who in their right mind would trust us with a kid? The more Cook talks about it, the less fond I am of the idea.

"You're not being much help here, Naomikins. You want to maybe pipe up a bit, give us a few more suggestions?" I throw my arms out to the side.

"How, Cook?" I'm tired, and I'm cranky, and I have no idea how to entertain a child. "How the_ fuck_ am I supposed to suggest anything? I don't know shit about kids. I'm twenty three! And a fucking lesbian, for fuck's sake! I've never touched a cock in my life, so what the hell would I know about kids?" He sniggers.

"Ha, yeah, you've never touched one... Not a real one anyway. Only one of those fancy fake ones you muff divers use when you need a good poundin'! All different colours and shit."

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." I can't deal with his humour right now. I make to leave the room, but he follows me, putting his hands on my shoulders as he jumps in front of me.

"No, no, no, no, wait! Wait, Naomikins!" I stop in my tracks, rolling my eyes as I look at him. "You're my best friend. I need you." He looks so vulnerable right now. "How am I supposed to do this on my own?"

He's right. There's no way he could cope on his own. He'd probably have the kid hooked on drugs and alcohol by the end of the week, taking him to strip clubs to 'chill' with his dad. I can't say I have any idea about how to look after a kid, but I'm sure as hell certain that two heads are better than one.

"Alright." I concede, dramatically rolling my eyes.

"Alright?"

"Alright. I'll fucking do it. I'll help you look after your minion. But you owe me!"

"Fucking yes, blondie!" He lifts me up, twirling me around in his arms.

"Cook! Cook, put me down; I can't breathe!"

"Shit, sorry..." He sets me down.

"Well come on then, I thought you wanted to make this diagram." We make our way back to the sofa. This kid's mum better be back soon...

* * *

It's about three in the morning when we finally think we've finished the chart, everything we think we need written on a list next to it. I scan down the list quickly. There are the necessities like clothes, a toothbrush etc., then there are other things like games and DVDs. Once I reach the end, a thought pops into my head.

"Shit..."

"What?" Cook turns his attention to me from where he's sprawled out on the couch.

"We'll have to enrol him in a school..."

.

.

.

.

**A/N – So... What are the thoughts? I'm not sure if I should continue or not... I'm working on another story at the minute for a different fandom, so this will have to be put on the backburner for the time being. But once I get more written for my other fic (or get frustrated with it; you know how it is...), I may try to get some more material written for this one. Also, Skins: Fire... Anyone else disappointed? The writers always seem to go out of their way to give my favourite character a hard time. First, Chris and Cassie, then Naomi (in both seasons 3 and 4), and now once again, Naomi (Who seemed really out of character for some bizarre reason...). Geez, give the girl a break... Ah well, at least I can soothe the pain with some fluffy fiction...**


End file.
